CB: (n) The Citizen’s Band (CB) Radio Service
The joy of getting older is in accumulating numerous stories you can share via your daily blog.
And of course, the second danger of getting older is obviously that you are nearer to death than you are to high school.
Bravely facing this danger, I will tell you that I was around during the time that gasoline was rationed in this country–in the mid-1970’s–and the speed limit was dropped to 55 miles per hour. At that point, the highways became the Wild West. Truck drivers who communicated with one another through CB radio began to rebel against the laws and drive whatever speed they desired by placing themselves in large convoys, so as to complicate the enforcement by the State Highway Patrol. In other words, it’s a little difficult to stop forty trucks going 75 miles per hour by waving your hand with your radar gun.
So to counteract these highwaymen, the police set up road blocks and pulled over large numbers of trucks, giving them tickets.
Our little traveling band of gypsy musicians did not have a CB radio–but we did squeeze ourselves into these convoys and travel down the highway with our own rendition of “need for speed.”
But one night we got caught in a roadblock, and were pulled over. We sat there at least an hour. Finally a patrolman walked up and told us we could go. I was shocked. I was also young and stupid, so I asked him why.
He said that even though he knew we were driving the same speed as the trucks, the radar didn’t reach us, and therefore he could not confirm that we were actually speeding.
We pulled away, delighted, surprised and somewhat convicted–as truck drivers glared at us with bullets of anger.
We spent the rest of the night driving 55 miles an hour since we didn’t have our convoy, and had no bread to purchase a CB radio.